CG14 O is for Omnes una manet nox
by Miz Em
Summary: Summer 2007 Alphabet challenge at the Numb3rs Forum. Sequel to G is for Gauntlet. AU, after Janus List.  This is the 14th in what will be a series of 26. Q is for Quagmire is the 1st. There will be no further updates to this piece.


Summer 2007 Alphabet challenge at the Numb3rs Forum. Sequel to G is for Gauntlet. AU, after Janus List. This is the 14th in what will be a series of 26. Q is for Quagmire is the 1st. There will be no further updates to this piece.  
--

_**Omnes una manet nox et calcanda semel via leti**__ - The same night awaits us all, and death's path must be trodden once and for all. Horace_

Latin translation from yuni dot com, Latin Phrases and Quotes.  
--

"Why isn't he any better, Dr. Pearson?" Don asked the doctor anxiously. He had come in to sit with his father mid-morning just so he could catch the doctor when he made his rounds. His stomach fell when the doctor turned serious eyes on him and seemed to be considering what to say.

"To be perfectly frank, Agent Eppes," Dr. Pearson said gently, "Your father is doing better than I ever expected." He paused as though he were choosing his words carefully. "While your father is a fit man, relatively speaking, he is no longer a young one. To suffer as much trauma as he did, in as vital an area as he did, I'm absolutely delighted that he's breathing on his own." He patted Don on the shoulder, "We're all doing the best we can for him. Give him time."

Don couldn't remember the last time he'd been so close to tears. It took every ounce of effort he had to nod his thanks to the doctor.

"Hang in there, Agent Eppes," Dr. Pearson said softly, sympathy shining in his eyes. He finished checking Alan over, completed his notations on the chart and left Don alone with his thoughts.

_The difference between you and me is that your father didn't die in your arms._ Colby's angry words to Don reverberated through his brain. He sank into the armchair next to his father's hospital bed, and dropped his head into his hands. "I should have been there to take the bullet instead of you, Dad," he whispered, anguish in every word. "Dear God in heaven, this feels bad enough. I don't want to know how Colby felt." Gently he cradled his father's hand in both of his. A single tear began a winding path from the corner of his eye. It spread out into tiny rivulets along the lines in his cheek, lines caused by both laughter and anxiety. Then others followed, as though the first tear opened the floodgates. Sobbing now, he dropped to his knees by the bed and dropped his cheek to his father's hand.

"Don."

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Millie's look of concern. She had spent the previous evening sitting with his father, and the weariness showed in slump of her shoulders, and the redness of her eyes.

"I could spout statistics at you, but I know none of it will make you feel better," Millie told him gently. "I only hope you know that your father would never blame you for any of this, and that he would not want you to shoulder this burden of guilt you're heaping upon yourself." She said no more, but the gentle hand remained on his shoulder, offering comfort and empathy.

After a few moments, Don pulled himself together and stood up. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I appreciate you being here for him. And for me."

Millie patted him on the shoulder and sat wearily in the armchair.

"I'll see you later, perhaps even bring you some dinner," he offered.

She smiled, "Amita will be stopping by later. I'll be going home for a short while then. We'll take care of things here, Don. You do what you have to do."

Feeling a little better, Don went back to work.

--

"We found shell casings," David told Don triumphantly, "Forensics say they managed to lift some partial prints off a few of them."

"They were awfully careless," Megan continued. "Fits in with Sean's theory that these are amateurs."

_Amateurs that put my father in the hospital hovering near death,_ Don thought bitterly. "Keep me posted. Meanwhile, have you been able to find any witnesses?"

David shook his head, "Both Charlie and Larry say the park was empty when they started playing chess. And neither noticed if anyone arrived after they did. We've put up signs though, asking anyone who was there at the time to contact us. So far, nothing."

"What else?" Don was restless and needed the action.

"Charlie and Larry went back out there, trying to see where the shooters might have parked their getaway car," Megan told him. "There's precious little to go on, Don."

Don clenched his fists, angry at how helpless he felt, then forced himself to relax. "Alright, we'll help Steele out with whatever investigation they're working on until we get something, either from Charlie or from Forensics."

Both Megan and David nodded and went back to work. Don paused for a moment, looking around him at the familiar bullpen, then headed out the door to join Charlie and Larry out at the park. _Maybe I can help them there. Or find something the others might have missed._ He felt better at having something to do.

--

Colby slipped quietly out of Wendy Lee's apartment the next day, after he planted the bug. He'd found an NSA bug and a Chinese bug already in place and wondered if it meant she was a triple agent if both sides were listening in on her. Well, they would find out soon enough.

When Colby got back to the house, he grabbed a couple bottles of water from the fridge before heading to the computer room.

Luke had just got done sneaking around in the DDFS computers. He reached gratefully for the bottle of water Colby held out to him. He had started the day before, but hadn't wanted to be logged on too long each time, so he had broken up his research into multiple sessions.

Colby shook his head when he remembered how difficult it had been to convince Luke he needed to stop and rest. The pallor in Luke's face last night had worried him, and he'd been close to using physical force when Luke finally capitulated and went to bed. He was glad that Luke looked better that day, although it would be a while before the bullet wound healed completely.

"You look like the cat that got the cream," Colby commented with amusement.

Luke smiled with satisfaction, "Yes, indeed."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense."

Leaning back with a sigh, Luke steepled his hands over his belly. He didn't notice Colby's grin at the gesture, it was one that Steele often used. "Linked our bad boys to Senator Barclay of the Intelligence Reform committee," he said smugly. Then he noticed Colby's grin and frowned, "Why are you grinning like an idiot?"

Colby laughed, "You look like Steele when you steeple your hands together like that."

Luke glanced down at his hands, and joined in Colby's laughter. "Guess he's rubbed off on me. Perhaps I've hung out with him far too long." But the comment sobered both of them. The thought that the people closest to them had to be suffering at their supposed deaths brought them sharply down to earth. Speaking in a quieter and more serious tone, Luke related his findings. "You were right in that these guys hooked up with Dwayne Carter in Afghanistan, and he turned them for the Chinese. But they weren't agents, they were low level muscle. Muscle that did odd 'jobs' for higher level double agents, and Senator Barclay happens to be one."

"Jeez," Colby muttered. "First Kannin and the Russians, now Barclay and the Chinese. What else could we possibly dig up in this mess?"

"Possibly more," Luke took a swallow of the water Colby had brought him. "I had to dig around in other sources. DDFS hasn't updated any files in the last few days. I'm not sure if its because Steele has pulled back to redundant systems or if everyone is out of commission. I hope it's the former."

Colby nodded. He knew that DDFS had systems in bunkers at a different site than their main computers for disaster recovery purposes, and as far as he was concerned, this was a disaster.

"Anyway, the news is patchy, but because I was looking for specific people and situations, I've got a relatively decent picture of what happened. Apparently, someone who knew a lot about DDFS cases leaked information to the subjects of our investigations, past and present. For example, Escalante and other gang investigations had the gangs turn on them. Corker seemed to know that Sean was onto him. We were the targets of Chinese agents, and I would venture to guess that Fiona was set upon by KGB agents."

"Who would have access to all of DDFS's files?" Colby asked Luke curiously. "Other than our people and the President?"

"The President may have delegated responsibilities to other people," Luke said slowly. Then reluctantly, "Or we could have a mole at DDFS."

--

"Amita," Charlie whispered as he crept into his father's hospital room.

"Charlie," Amita smiled to see him. "Why are you whispering?"

"I don't know," he admitted. He looked around uncertainly, "I'm just... well, I don't know." He sighed and snuggled in next to her in the armchair.

She slipped a comforting arm around him. He might not have been willing to admit it to himself, but she thought he was having difficulty dealing with his father's critical condition. "How did it go at the park?"

Charlie perked up, "We think we found where the getaway car might have been parked. Don got there just as we narrowed it down. He's asking around in that area right now. Hopefully, he'll find someone who can give him some information about the vehicle." Cheered by her brilliant smile, he said softly, "Thank you for staying with my dad."

"I was happy to do it," she told him gently. "Millie was completely worn out. I talked her into taking a quick nap here before driving home. I was afraid for her safety."

He was silent for a moment, "I wasn't too thrilled when she started going out with my dad, but she's been good for him. He'd been happier and more relaxed since." Restlessly, he reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. "I'm afraid."

"I know," she said softly.

"It was so hard when Mom died. I don't think I could deal with it if..." Charlie choked on the words that would not come.

Amita squeezed his hand lovingly. "I hope it won't come to that, but you're strong, Charlie. You'll deal with it one day at a time, just like everyone else. And I'll be right here with you."

--

Sean looked up with an eager smile when Hannah came in with dinner. She laughed softly, "You must be hungry."

"You have no idea," he said, pulling a droll face. He was gratified when she laughed again. _So beautiful,_ he thought wistfully. _And not mine._ He pulled his mind in from that particular trap and asked lightly, "So how was your day?"

She grinned at him, "You don't really want to know about jewelry designs and purchases."

_I just want to listen to the sound of your voice,_ he thought longingly. But he said, grinning, "No, I don't guess so." He put the laptop he'd been working on away and rolled his wheelchair towards her. He reached eagerly for the styrofoam container she held out to him, "So what's for dinner?"

"Just some pot roast from the diner down the street from the jewelry store," she told him as she settled into the armchair with her own dinner. "You looked like you were hard at it."

"Steele's a slave driver," he complained good-naturedly a split second before he shoved a huge forkful of pot roast into his mouth. Her delighted laughter at his antics warmed his heart.

"Has Steele heard anything from the lady at the Jeffersonian?" Hannah asked anxiously.

Sean allowed himself a moment's jealousy that her thoughts were first and foremost for Colby before he replied, "The forensic anthropologist? She won't have had enough time to determine anything. Besides, Steele's already on his way back from Washington so he wouldn't have heard from her." He put his dinner down and rolled his wheelchair over to her. Gently, he said, "Hannah, you know you would be the first person Steele calls the moment he knows."

"I know," Hannah sighed and put her own dinner down. She got up to pace restlessly around the hospital room. "It's hardest when I'm at home alone. Especially in the middle of the night," she said softly as she leaned against the window and gazed unseeing out of it.

His heart ached at the sadness in her voice, and the slight tremble of her lips. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, kiss the tremble from her full inviting lips. But he said lightly, "They're tough men. I'd put my money on them any day."

Hannah smiled as she turned to him, "You're the one bright spot in my life right now, Sean." She leaned over and kissed him on his cheek.

Years of training as a silent sniper came to the fore, his sudden intake of breath, so loud to his own ears, was barely discernible even in the quiet hospital room. He had a scant second to close his eyes and breathe in her fragrance, and savor the feel of her lips against his cheek before she moved away.

She settled back into her armchair and picked up her dinner again.

Following her lead, Sean did the same, and for her sake, made an effort to keep the conversation light. He knew he would only have stolen moments with her, and he wanted to keep her happy while he spent those stolen moments with her.

--

Later that night, Sean awoke from a nightmare, drenched in sweat. In that nightmare, he was looking up the barrel of the shotgun at Corker again, only this time, Colby and the others didn't arrive in time to rescue him. Worse, Corker kept shooting him, over and over again. But even though he died, he could feel himself jerking at each shot that was pumped into him. Slowly, he maneuvered himself out of the bed and into the wheelchair, and wheeled himself to the bathroom. He splashed some cool water on his face, and dried himself off, sweat and all.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sweat-drenched bedding, and decided against getting back into bed. Sean sighed when his thoughts turned to Hannah and decided that wasn't going to do. Determined to stay away from that touchy subject, he made up his mind. Grabbing his playboy bunny deck of cards, he headed towards Alan Eppes' room.

A little surprised that there was no one there, Sean was nonetheless relieved. He was not in a sociable mood.

"I had a nightmare and couldn't go back to sleep. So I decided you could use some company," he told a still comatose Alan. "I brought my cards, but I guess I'll just play some solitaire. You know you have to get well because I want a chance to win my money back. Besides, your sons would be a mess without you, and we don't want that. Colby would be unhappy if they were a mess, and Hannah would be unhappy if Colby was unhappy..." Sean trailed off, sighing. All thoughts led to Hannah these days, or so it seemed.

Carefully shuffling his cards, he laid out his cards in a standard Klondike solitaire. He made a few moves then stopped to ponder.

"Yet death is as part of life as life is. Nonetheless, we all fear it. For ourselves and for our loved ones. Not a single one of us is unmarked by it. Some of us have faced it. Others of us have caused it. Yet none of us can bear the thought of dealing with life without our loved ones."

Restless now from the dark thoughts churning in his head, Sean pushed the table of cards away from him and rolled his wheelchair next to the bed.

"_Omnes una manet nox, et calcanda semel via leti_, Mr. Eppes," Sean whispered, gently cradling Alan's hand in both of his. "I've killed many, it's part of my job, and I would gladly tread the dark path for one woman, a woman who can never be mine." Sighing, he patted Alan's hand. "I just cannot believe that it's your time, not under such senseless circumstances."

The room remained quiet, punctuated only by the beeps of the machines that monitored Alan's heartrate and oxygen levels. Unwilling to go back to his own hospital room and face his nightmares alone, Sean reached for a book someone left on the nightstand. He opened it at the dog-eared page about two-thirds of the way through and began to read out loud.

He was just finishing up the book when he heard a rustle at the doorway. He turned to see Don looking at him.

"What the heck are you doing here at 3 am in the morning?" Don asked curiously.

"I could ask you the same thing," Sean said dryly. "But surely it's obvious, even to an FBI agent, that I'm reading to your father?"

Don laughed softly then looked surprised. "I needed that laugh," he said quietly.

"A laugh a minute, that's me." Sean rolled his eyes. Then he asked curiously, "How's the investigation going? Find anything on the shooters?" He waved Don to the armchair.

Lips curving with amusement at the sight of the playboy bunny cards, Don dropped gratefully into the armchair. "My dad enjoyed those cards."

"Well, of course he would," Sean said mildly. "He's a man, isn't he?"

Don chuckled, "You don't think it's a little strange to have pornography strewn all over the tabletop in an FBI agent's father's hospital room?"

Shrugging, Sean replied, "It's not hurting anybody."

Don let it go. "Anyway, Forensics found partial fingerprints on the shell casings."

"Amateurs," Sean muttered.

"I have to be grateful for that, Sean," Don reminded him. "Anyway, the results finally came back on those fingerprints. I've been tracing the current whereabouts of these men. Then I spent a few hours getting search warrants."

"At this time of the night?" Sean grinned. "I bet the judge was happy."

Don grinned in return. "His wife was even happier. Anyway, we'll go after them tomorrow. I'll feel better when they're behind bars." He brooded for a moment. "About Liz..."

Sean held up his hands warily. _Liz seems like a lifetime ago._ "If you want an apology, I'd be happy to give you one. But she indicated she was interested before I made a move." He sighed when Don scowled. "Hey, she gave me the shaft too."

"Did you have to make a move?" Don wouldn't let it go.

Sean shrugged.

"Donnie."

Don stared at Sean, stunned. Sean stared back, equally stunned. Both spun around towards the hospital bed.

"Dad! Oh God! Dad!" Don grabbed his father's hand and dropped to his knees by the bed, happy beyond words.

"I'll get the nurses," Sean told him, smiling at the happiness in Don's face. "And I'll call Charlie." He laughed softly when Don didn't reply. He didn't think Don heard a thing he said. "I'm glad this wasn't your dark night, Mr. Eppes," Sean murmured. He gathered up his cards and went back to his room after summoning the nurses and calling Charlie as he promised. It no longer felt quite so lonely, nor did the nightmare seem quite as bleak.

--

"I hear your father's out of his coma," Steele smiled at Don when he showed up at the FBI office the next afternoon. The brilliant smile that lit Don's face warmed his heart. He was very glad that, at least, was turning out well.

"Yeah, Millie and Amita haven't stopped fussing over him. Hannah stopped by for a little while this morning when she was there to visit Sean. Dad's going to be unbearable after all this female pampering."

Steele laughed, "He deserves it."

Don nodded, "I would put up with anything from him, as long as he stays safe." Uncomfortable with how much he was revealing, Don turned abruptly and started towards the conference room. "Booth called this morning and said that they were ready to talk to you."

"Booth?" Steele looked puzzled. Then his expression cleared, "Ah, Agent Seeley Booth, FBI, out of the Washington office. He's the agent who works with Dr. Brennan?"

"Yeah, he says she's ready to talk to you. He wants to be there, because she's sometimes difficult to understand. Too much scientific jargon." Don grinned, "It doesn't take much for Booth to think it's too much scientific jargon, but I know how he feels."

"Eppes, it's about time. Some of us have to work for a living," Seeley Booth told Don with a grin when they finally got the satellite visual communication link going.

"I've been up all night, thank you very little," Don told him, but he was grinning too.

"Yeah? Good news about your Dad, I hope."

"The best. So, you got anything for me, or are you just going to waste our time?"

Booth chuckled, "This is Dr. Temperance Brennan. Take over, Bones."

"Stop calling me that!" Tempe frowned at Booth before turning to face Steele and Eppes. She nodded towards Steele, "Mr. Steele, I presume."

"You presume correctly, Dr. Brennan. Thank you for taking this on."

Tempe began to speak, as though he hadn't said a thing. "The narrow pelvises indicate that both subjects are male. The amount of calcium and other mineral deposits in the bones, and the amount of wear in the dental enamel indicate that one of the males was in his early thirties and the other was in his early forties."

Steele felt an icy fist clutch at his throat. Colby was in his early thirties and Luke was in his early forties. He swallowed hard, then had to turn his attention back to the screen. Dr. Brennan hadn't paused for very long.

"The relatively narrow nose ridge, and the width between the eye sockets indicate that both subjects were Caucasians. Measurements of the skeletons indicate that the younger man was about five foot ten and the older man was about five foot eight. The younger man had a heavier build, the older was slender in comparison. The stress marks on the skeletons indicate that the heavier build is likely a result of a higher muscle mass and not obesity."

Steele sat down heavily in the nearest chair. He was barely able to breath, the descriptions were so very close to Colby and Luke. _I just knew I shouldn't have allowed myself to hope._

"Cause of death, gunshot wounds for both of them. There were nicks in the bone consistent with .38 caliber automatics."

"Gunshot wounds? They didn't die from the explosion?" Steele sat up in surprise.

"I just told him that," Tempe turned to Booth, puzzled.

Booth held a hand up in a placating gesture. "Just tell him the important part, Bones."

"I told you not to call me that," Tempe frowned again, but turned back to Don and Steele. "Comparisons between the x-rays taken of the skeletons dental teeth and the x-rays in the dental records you provided indicate that these are not the same men."

There was a silence. Then Steele gasped a breath, "What?"

Tempe looked puzzled again and repeated what she had said earlier, only a little louder. "The skeletons are not the same men as those in the records you sent me."

"They're alive?" Steele couldn't contain his delight.

"I can't tell you that. All I can tell you is that the skeletons do not belong to the men you're looking for."

"Thank you, Dr. Brennan! Thank you, so very much!" Steele wanted to hug her.

Surprised now, Tempe smiled tentatively. "You're very welcome."

Booth smiled, "You owe me one, Eppes."

"How do you figure that? She's the one who did the work." Don laughed, shaking his head. "Dr. Brennan, if you ever come out to Los Angeles, we'd be happy to stand you dinner."

She smiled again, "Thank you, Agent Eppes. I'm glad you're all pleased though the results were inconclusive."

"Inconclusive to you, perhaps, Dr. Brennan. But it's the best news I've had in more than a week."

Don laughed when Steele practically ran out of the conference room

--

"They weren't killed in the explosion!" Steele could barely contain his excitement. He grinned at Fiona, Hannah and Sean, from the doorway to Sean's hospital room. "Dr. Brennan, from the Jeffersonian Institute, has determined that the skeletons aren't Colby and Luke." He laughed when the women shrieked as the news sank in. He exchanged a grin and a shrug with Sean when they started squealing while they hugged each other.

"Is this squealing a woman thing?" Steele murmured to Sean who laughed.

"I have no idea. It might just be a Fiona and Hannah thing."

Both men watched indulgently as the two women chattered excitedly.

"I knew it. I just knew that Colby wasn't dead!" Hannah said happily. "Thank you for checking." She hugged Steele. "Oh, it's just wonderful news!"

But Fiona was sobering, "Why haven't they checked in then?"

"I'm sure they have their reasons," Sean said gently when Hannah started to look worried again. He frowned at Fiona for putting the worry back in Hannah's eyes.

"It's a great cover," Steele murmured, but he was looking at Sean with interest. The protectiveness towards Hannah and the displeasure towards Fiona was unexpected. "We'll let it be for now. I'm sure they'll show up when they've got what they're after."

Several hours later, after Fiona had left with Steele to pick up where they'd left off on an investigation, Hannah got up to leave for the evening.

Pushing away from the bed with his hands, Sean got up too.

"Oh, you're walking again!" Hannah exclaimed in delight.

Sean grinned, "Sort of. Only a few steps at a time for now. I've been in physical therapy, because I'm ready to get out of here, and get back in the field."

Hannah shook her head, "Colby hates being cooped up indoors too." She smiled shyly at him. "Thank you for being there for me." She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

Sean buried his face in her hair, and slipped his arms around her. He returned her hug just as tightly. _Colby will be back soon, and I won't have this opportunity again,_ he thought sadly, cradling her protectively against him. But he flashed her a brilliant smile when she let him go. "Always a pleasure," he grinned wickedly, "Anything to put a scowl on Colby's face."

She laughed and kissed him on his cheek.

He smacked a loud kiss on hers and waved goodbye as she left. _And anything to put a smile on yours._

--

A/N: No, none of the recoveries my characters manage are at all rooted in reality. ;-)


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